


out of hope

by treescape



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Padawan Braids, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, jedi knighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25402861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape
Summary: But Yoda cuts his braid, there in the Hall of Knighthood, and all Obi-Wan registers at first is the scent of sulfur. A decade and more coils into a small green palm.Or, Obi-Wan is Knighted and gifts Qui-Gon his padawan braid.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 28
Kudos: 138





	out of hope

**Author's Note:**

> In which I said “I want to write something short and fluffy but I have no ideas” and [Lilibet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilibet/pseuds/Lilibet) said “what about a cute fluffy Qui-Gon lives au where obi gives him his padabraid” and I said “Ohhh that would be adorable indeed. Thank you!” and then promptly proceeded to forget what fluff is.
> 
> But hey, it ends happy, so it still counts, right?

Obi-Wan doesn’t flinch. In the very back of his mind, he’d wondered if he would; the last time he’d felt the hum of a saber so close to his face, his serenity had been in pieces around him.

But Yoda cuts his braid, there in the Hall of Knighthood, and all Obi-Wan registers at first is the scent of sulfur. A decade and more coils into a small green palm.

Obi-Wan had always wanted to stand and turn, movements measured and graceful. He had hoped he would find Qui-Gon’s eyes and see pride.

But Qui-Gon isn’t there.

\---

There is a self-consciousness to moving without the slim weight of a braid over one shoulder, or the brush of it against his face. That braid now rests in the pocket of his robes, neatly tied off and folded away.

When he enters the Halls of Healing, Qui-Gon is just as he was when Obi-Wan left him that morning. Obi-Wan watches his pale face, the shallow rise and fall of his chest, and touches one hand where it lies on the mattress.

It is almost unbalancing, somehow, to tower over Qui-Gon like this, so Obi-Wan sits in the chair next to the bed before drawing the auburn plait of hair from his pocket. For a moment he just feels the softness of it, so deceptive for twelve years of commitment, and then he slowly and carefully lifts Qui-Gon's hand in his own.

Without a word, he weaves the braid between Qui-Gon’s fingers—over, under, around—and tucks the ends into Qui-Gon’s palm. Once he is done, he curls Qui-Gon’s hand into a loose fist, lays it back down on the mattress, and folds his own hands in his lap.

When he speaks, it is not to silence; it is to the sound of Qui-Gon’s breathing and the faint presence of their bond.

“I would have waited if I could have, Master. Another week, a month, a year…I would have waited.” As it was, he’d only been able to risk five days, but he knows that Qui-Gon will understand. “The only way to ensure that the boy’s training will begin was to give him a Master, and there was only one way I knew of to do that.”

Obi-Wan rubs one hand over his face and up through his hair. He flinches for the first time that day when it catches on nothing.

“I would ask you to wake, Master. There are many things I’ve wished to say, though I suspect you wouldn’t like them all.” He’s said something of the sort every day. They are not words meant to entice, precisely; whatever keeps Qui-Gon from consciousness, Obi-Wan knows that such bribes are no counter.

But it gives Obi-Wan something to hold on to, to speak his thoughts and his memories aloud. Qui-Gon has admonished him more than once that he lives too much inside his own head. 

“I would tell you that I miss you. I would tell you that you’re stubborn, and that you sometimes hurt those around you. I would tell you that I know you sometimes cheat at cards.” He pauses for a moment but then goes on, because there are far more important things still. “And if you wake for me, I will be brave. I will tell you that the sound of your voice lives in my heart. I will tell you that when I dream, I see your eyes and your smile and feel your hands. I will tell you that I’ve loved you for years.”

There is no response, and Obi-Wan had not expected there to be. But Qui-Gon’s chest continues to rise and fall below the familiar planes of his face, and Obi-Wan’s Padawan braid lies between his fingers. So Obi-Wan tucks one hand around Qui-Gon's, feels skin and the smoothness of his own hair, and sits.

\---

When Obi-Wan wakes some time later, it is to the gentle pressure of fingers against his own. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but his head hangs forward on his chest and his shoulders ache in their hunch.

He knows, somehow, what he will find when he lifts his gaze.

Qui-Gon’s eyes are bluer than Obi-Wan has ever seen them, something deeper than cobalt, and all Obi-Wan can seem to say, despite all he has been saying for days, is “ _Qui-Gon_.”

Qui-Gon's face is lined with pain, but it is clear in a way that tells Obi-Wan he has been awake for a while. His voice is a little rough with disuse, but it is the voice that Obi-Wan has heard for years. “I would not have you hold to your promises if they were made only out of fear.”

Obi-Wan laughs, a wet, choked sound, and leans in close. He presses his fingers more firmly against Qui-Gon’s hand; the braid still lies between them, a history and perhaps a future. 

The things he has said, all of them truer than true, flash through his mind.

“No. Not out of fear. Out of hope.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm [treescape](https://treescape.tumblr.com/) on tumbr.


End file.
